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BLUE SUN ROOM FILK
Just a little poem I wrote that actually fits River pretty well. Enjoy.
CATEGORY: FILK TIMES READ: 5631 RATING: 10 SERIES: FIREFLY
The wind is from the south
I am sane again.
Yet all the while
I fear the weathercock
Swinging to points north,
When the cold fills my mind,
Building shackles of ice
That bind my thoughts,
And I will not know
One thing from another,
Nor name them right.
I do not know I am mad,
Nor believe those who say I am:
Yet when the warm breeze melts the frost
And the wind is southerly,
I know a hawk from a handsaw.
COMMENTS
Thursday, July 17, 2008 7:57 AM
GILOVE2DANCE
Thursday, July 17, 2008 3:59 PM
ANGELLEMARCS
Friday, July 18, 2008 12:34 PM
SHINYGOODGUY
Friday, July 18, 2008 2:25 PM
STEAMER
Monday, July 21, 2008 7:44 AM
KK
Monday, July 28, 2008 7:30 PM
WYTCHCROFT
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